Portrait of a Lady
by Sykira
Summary: The Doctor wants to paint a portrait of Donna, I'm taking artistic license to give him a painting hobby ;) It's just fluffity fluff. Gratitude to Angel for the beta and KGriess for proofing. For CW. Loose follow up to Off Kilter (both on here and LJ) but no need to read that first. **After these 5 chapters this story has an NC-17 follow up at live journal under username Sykira**
1. Chapter 1

"Come in, come in! All ready for you, I eventually dug up that perspective easel Vincent lent me…ah, never did get it back to him, hmm, still…nicked his moist palette box idea too…or was that Anton Mauve's? Fantastic name for a painter, don't you think, Donna? Mauve! Do you think he…Donna?"

The Doctor's babbling seemed to have trailed off but Donna didn't even notice. She had stopped in her tracks in the doorway when she saw that the Doctor was only wearing his undershirt and the shorts he occasionally wore to go to bed.

He followed her gaze and started to fidget. "Oh, I…well, it's so warm in here, I stoked the fire so you wouldn't get cold while I work." When she didn't respond at first, he pulled at his ear. "I can put more clothes on if this is making you uncomfortable?" he continued uncertainly.

She shook herself a little. "No, don't be silly, I've seen you like this tons of times." _Although not while I was getting naked in front of you,_ she neglected to add.

She came fully into the library and closed the door behind her. Now she was the one being silly, it wasn't like there was anyone else on board to walk in on them. It was warm in here, as he had said. He had pushed the couches around to accommodate his equipment, which included the most opulent looking chaise lounge Donna had ever seen.

The Doctor gestured toward it tentatively and Donna stepped toward it.

"I kept the lighting soft," he offered hopefully, "like you wanted, Donna?"

"Yeah." She flashed him a quick, nervous smile and started to loosen the tight knot on her robe. The only light in the room was from the firelight, some strategically placed candles, and the lights from the Christmas tree reflecting in his widening eyes as he watched her slip her dressing gown from her shoulders.

He coughed and ran his hand through his hair, looking suddenly very flustered. Donna halted the progress of her robe before it could reveal anything scandalous and turned away from him slightly, butterflies in her stomach going crazy. The Doctor retreated to busy himself with his paints, but Donna could sense he was watching her from the corner of his eye as she worked at the knot that had somehow tightened under her twisting fingers.

He fiddled some more at the easel and then eventually ventured, "everything okay, Donna?"

She shrugged in answer. Her eyes followed him as he set his brush down and came over to her, stopping when he was close to her, but not too close, his eyes on hers. He circled just behind her and placed his hands softly on her shoulders.

"We don't have to do this, Donna." His voice was quiet.

"No, I want to. Ever since the TARDIS showed me your paintings and you said you would love to have me sit for you…" But she still didn't move. "You still do, right?"

He laughed softly. "Donna…yes! Ever since we first met." He walked his fingers down her arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake, and squeezed her hand. She returned the squeeze and his smile. He didn't let go; instead he came slowly around to face her. His eyes held hers, the intensity within them surprising her. She swallowed as his other hand curved around her cheek in a caress so gentle she forgot to breathe. What was happening? The atmosphere between them was suddenly so charged.

"Let me help you." His hands had drifted to her collarbone, making her heart race.

When she didn't object, the Doctor began to slowly peel the dressing gown away from her shoulders. She made a little noise of surprise and his hands let go of the material. Moving to her neck his touch gentled on her bare skin. Donna's heart sped up as his fingertips grazed along her shoulders.

She held her breath as he circled her slowly until his eyes met hers again.

"What are you scared of?"

She looked at him, so beautiful in the flicker of candlelight. She could see the concern in his eyes, but she couldn't find any words to answer him.

"Are you worried I might try to touch you?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head and looked down at the floor. That wasn't it, she trusted him completely. He waited.

"It's just… you're going to see me, and I'm…" Donna swallowed.

Slowly, carefully, the Doctor reached out and tilted her chin until she was looking at him again. "Donna, you are _gorgeous_. If you give me a chance to paint you maybe I can show you are exquisite you are. You don't need to be frightened, okay?"

Her cheeks flushed at his words. He covered her hands with his own. She was still clutching her robe around her. Gradually, giving her plenty of time to stop him, he undid the knot in the belt and prised the fabric free from her fingers. Donna gasped as her dressing gown fell open. The Doctor murmured soothingly, keeping his eyes on hers. Still moving slowly his hands skimmed gradually down her arms following the path of her falling robe until it pooled around her feet. She stood there, completely naked before him. He lifted his hands from her body.

Donna's eyes slid closed of their own accord and she shivered. She was surprised that it mattered so much to her but she found she couldn't bear to watch his reaction to her body in case he found her unattractive. It took all of her willpower not to cross her arms over her chest. This had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she just wanted the ground to swallow her up.

"Donna, look at me."

She could hear the concern in his voice and she forced herself to open her eyes. He was still watching her face, his expression full of worry.

"You look terrified. If you've changed your mind, we can stop. This isn't supposed to be scary, Donna." He sounded pained.

"You're not scaring me," she countered with a frown. "I just…I don't know what's going through your head, that's all."

His eyes flicked up and to the right and he swallowed hard. "I, er…well…"

"It's okay, just tell me." She raised her chin in a classic Donna pose the Doctor recognized immediately: defiance masking insecurity. His hearts twisted to see how much she really believed she wasn't attractive enough and he longed to change her mind.

Now it was the Doctor's turn to close his eyes. "To be honest, Donna, I haven't looked yet, I can tell how much you don't want me looking at you." _And I'm horrified at how uncomfortable you look and that this might turn out to be a terrible mistake and you will realize how I feel about you and be frightened, or…or…repulsed and never trust me again._

"Oh."

He opened his eyes to find her looking at him. He was encouraged when she mustered a chagrinned half-smile. Her chest rose and fell most becomingly as he stared at her and it took all his self-control to keep focused on her face when the rest of her stunningly beautiful body was bared to him, mere inches from his hands.

"Doctor…I know the sort of young girls you usually run around with, that's all, and I'm not—"

She had to stop when he laid a finger across her lips.

"I'm not interested in young girls, Donna." His fingertips were lingering on her lips, tracing their outline. He knew he was crossing a line but his good sense was held in abeyance by being this close to the woman he loved; she was intoxicating. He leaned in closer, figuring he was never one for good sense anyway.

She blinked. "You mean…you…" Donna's mind was spinning. He couldn't possibly mean what his deep dark eyes seemed to be trying to convey.

He took a step forward until there was almost no space between them at all, she heard him draw in his breath and he leaned in until his lips were close to her face.

"Go on," he breathed.

"Y-you mean you never painted them, Rose, or Martha even?"

He shook his head, his eyes still intent on hers but her words seeming to bring him back to why there were here.

"I just want to paint _you_." His answering whisper was husky.

He straightened a little until he was still impossibly close but no longer seemed like he was going to kiss her. Which was a good thing, Donna reasoned, because he would never actually kiss _her_ so it did her no good to let her imagination go there.

"Lie down?"

His voice was so low it was almost a sensual growl. It did things to her that no amount of counseling herself to be sensible could remedy.

She stepped back in a hurry, her legs bumping into the couch behind her, which reminded her of why they were there. She reached out blindly, almost tripping over her own feet.

The Doctor clasped her hand and moved to slide his other arm around her waist, steadying her. At the touch of his palm against her skin they both gasped but he didn't let her go.

"Um, right, lie down, like on the couch? …Where do you, uh, want me?" she mumbled, rapidly losing coherence. His long arm had wrapped around her waist and his hand gentled on the curve of her stomach. When she looked up into his eyes they were almost black.

There was a pause before he answered her and she caught his gaze sweeping over her now that she was practically in his arms. His eyes bulged and his throat worked.

"Er…" Still staring at her, the Doctor slowly let her go and indicated the chaise lounge with a trembling hand. Then he turned abruptly on his heel, marching himself back to hide behind his easel. Donna blinked. If she didn't know better she could have sworn he looked thoroughly _aroused_…maybe he was just flustered, who knows long look it had been since he had painted a woman. Yeah, that must be it she decided.

She looked down at herself for a minute and shook her head. Even with all the running giving her body more tone than before, she couldn't fathom a man like the Doctor being attracted to her.

She arranged herself awkwardly on the chaise lounge. The Doctor scratched at the back of his neck. "I need you to…uh…if you can just…" He laced his hands together behind his back and tried for a casual saunter when he came out from behind the easel and approached her.

She froze. Was he going to…position her or something? The thought of his hands on her body again made Donna's skin tingle pleasantly.

He rocked on his heels and looked somewhere over her shoulder. "Can you lie back a bit and try to, er…try to relax?"

"I'm sorry, I've not done anything like this before," she muttered.

"No, I know, it's okay," his voice softened as he looked down at her. "I'll go easy on you your first time, okay?" He winked in a way that was so suggestive her stomach did a slow and delicious flip.

"Donna, there's something we can do, if you like, something portrait painters of royalty and other important figures would use if they were painting a nude?"

"What's that then?"

His tongue poked at the roof of his mouth then he leaned down and Donna sucked in a breath. For a moment he was so close she could breathe in his scent, she inhaled as unobtrusively as possible. He reached over her and snagged a thin throw from the back of the chaise lounge, a tapestry of color from the finest silk, then reverently draped it over her prone form and stood back as she sighed in relief.

The Doctor sighed too and knelt at her side, resting his chin on his hand. "Better?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Feels so weird having all my bits on display. Seriously, I'm like a flippin' slab of meat lying here!"

He frowned. "Stop talking about yourself like that."

She shrugged under the intensity of his gaze.

"No, Donna, I mean it." He reached out and cradled her cheek in his palm. "You are beautiful. Magnificent. If you look like anything it's the Naked Maja or Olympia or maybe Venus of Urbino although frankly, you put them all to shame."

She refrained from snorting in disbelief, although barely, settling instead for regarding him with a dubious eyebrow.

Before the Doctor could stop himself, his hand was traveling down the length of her body, worshipfully tracing her curves with a featherlight touch that hovered longingly millimeters from her alabaster skin. His hand settled on the curve of her waist, the cool silk underneath his palm veiling the warmth that radiated from her body.

"Tiziano would be so jealous of me right now…and Boticelli, well, don't get me started!" _And Goya would just die to paint such spectacular breasts,_ he added quietly to himself.

"Give over," she mumbled and he noted just how far down her body her blush spread until it disappeared under the silk. He cleared his throat and withdrew his hand before the temptation to caress her curvaceous hip grew too much for him.

"So…with the shawl thing, I can be covered?"

"For now. I will need you to be without it eventually, though." He cupped a hand around the back of his neck. "Can you recline a bit more?"

She shuffled about and then looked up at him for instructions.

"Here…" He went up on one knee and plumped some cushions behind her. Then he placed his hands gently on her bare shoulders, taking a moment to wonder at how marvelously soft her skin was under his hands as he guided her to lie back.

He rocked back on his heels to survey the result then tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin for a few beats. He hoped very much that he looked like an artist communing with his muse; in truth he was very much a man grasping for self control being this close to an incredible woman he had been both in awe of and desperately in love with for a very long time. Her body stunned him with its beauty—all he had wanted to do was to show her how he saw her—but somehow he felt he was the one getting all the benefit from this situation so far.

_Think brain think. Think Think Think. _ She still looked stiff and nervous.

"Can you bring your knees up a little? Lean them to one side, just whatever feels comfortable? Yes, that's it, yes, Donna. Can I..?" He took her hand in his and draped one arm behind her head, watching her face as he touched her. She was biting her lip.

"All right?" he inquired softly.

"I feel like I'm just loafing around – am I just gonna lie here like some lady muck?"

He grinned. "Exactly! Get in touch with your inner lady of leisure, thatta girl!"

She wriggled deeper into the cushions and pillowed her cheek on the arm slung behind her head. He tried fervently not to notice how the angle lifted her breast until only the peak was still covered with silk. The sight of her dark pink nipples was forever burned behind his eyes and he longed to tug away the rest of the material and suckle on that divine peak.

"Don't stop until you are completely comfortable," he breathed, dropping his hand down to the back of the lounge, captivated by the woman underneath him.

As she looked up at him in return her lips parted slightly and he could have sworn her eyes moved to his lips as he unconsciously mimicked the action. She stilled underneath him.

"Ready?" he breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm ready," Donna's answering whisper was hushed and the Doctor knew she could feel this thing between them too—whatever it was. It had been building a long time. He had been crazy to think he could paint her portrait and still somehow hide his burgeoning feelings for her. She was so exquisitely beautiful and now she was so close; all he would have to do was lean down just a few inches further and brush his lips over hers…

Without consciously deciding to do so, his mouth had moved closer to hers, but just then he searched her eyes and saw something shift behind them—an almost imperceptible drawing together of her eyebrows revealing a vulnerability that made his heartbeats catch.

With one last long lingering look at her perfect red lips, the Doctor straightened up reluctantly. Gazing down at her he noted the trust return to her eyes and went to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop himself from touching her again. Too late he remembered he wasn't wearing his trousers and his hands slid awkwardly along the sides of his shorts. He hoped desperately that she hadn't noticed. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?" he asked casually, scuffing his toes along the pile of the carpet.

She nodded and he felt her watching him as he made his way back behind the easel. He closed his eyes and centered himself, breathing deeply and letting his senses reach out. He could hear the crackle of the fire, feel it's smoky warmth on his skin, smell the pine cones on their Christmas tree—she still insisted she didn't like Christmas but he had seen how her eyes lit up when he had surprised her one morning tromping through the console room shaking snowflakes from his hair as he set the beautiful tree down for her inspection.

By the time he opened his eyes again the hazy tension in the room had abated slightly but the air was still filled with possibility. Looking over to Donna he saw one of her eyebrows arch as she returned his gaze. He caught his breath; there it was—something so regal about her, he longed to capture it on canvas. She gave him a soft smile of encouragement and he picked up his paintbrushes, loving the soft click of the wood in his hands. She was right—it had been too long since he had done this. He was soon lost in the joy of sketching the beginnings of her portrait, losing awareness of everything except for the woman he loved.

It was quite some time later when the Doctor sat back on his stool and cocked his head, pleased with his progress and how easy it had been to capture her essence in the frame. Tracing her curves onto the parchment had been sheer pleasure and he ached to start to fill in the details that would bring her likeness to life under his careful hand.

She stirred slightly and he looked up, realizing he had been so absorbed in his work that hours had passed. He blinked. A Time Lord didn't lose track of time—such a thing was impossible!

"I'm stiff as a board and I think my bum's numb!" she grumbled with a twinkle in her eye that made the widest grin spread across his face.

"Come on then, my muse, time to take a break! Cuppa?" He jumped up from his seat, pausing only to cover his canvas with a sheet, and bounded to her side.

Donna took his proffered hands and pulled herself up to a sitting position but then she dropped his hands to grab at her covering before it could slip down. He swallowed.

"You didn't tell me all this lying around was hard work!" She grunted as she stretched her back.

"Oh, are you really stiff?" His face fell. "Here, let me." He sat down behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders, marveling once again at the softness of her skin.

She gasped. "Doctor! I'm practically naked! You are so asking for a slap, mister, what do you think you're…._oh!_ Ah…Oooooh yes, yeah…right there!"

Donna sucked in a breath and released a sound of pure pleasure that went straight through him and made him have to adjust himself on the lounge. He managed not to gulp _too_ audibly as she made another noise even more sensual than the first.

"You like it?" he mumbled as he spread his long fingers over her shoulders.

She moaned in response and the Doctor's mouth fell open. He had no idea she could make such _noises_ and he was even more taken aback at how helplessly his body was responding to them. He couldn't remember any woman affecting him quite so powerfully.

He gently swept her beautiful hair to the side and scratched his fingernails lightly over the back of her neck, biting back a gasp of his own when she hissed in appreciation.

"Why don't you lie on your front?" he suggested, keeping his tone mild so as not to betray how much he really wanted to keep touching her. "I'll give you a good rub down?"

She hesitated and looked back over her shoulder at him, luminous blue eyes holding his. He stilled his hands, awaiting her permission. "Just your back, if you want?"

"Yeah…that'd be nice…thanks." He could see a blush high in her cheeks before she turned away from him.

He solicitously helped her rearrange her wrap so that it covered the curves of her bottom as she lay down. Then his hands returned to her skin, desperate to be touching her again. The Doctor couldn't say for sure which one of them enjoyed themselves more as he spent this next thirty minutes showing off his masseur skills.

Finally she was writhing underneath him in unbridled pleasure and together they giggled as he had found her sensitive spots along her sides, his fingers only once grazing the curve of her breast by accident. Okay, maybe twice. He had goosebumps from how intimate this was, these stolen touches, her exquisite sighs.

He leaned over her slowly, bringing his mouth to her ear as he let one hand trail lower over her curvaceous bottom. She grew quiet underneath him and he wondered if he should stop. No, he _knew _he should stop, but he hadn't felt like this in so long, if ever. That she would even let him do this was boggling his mind; he was drunk on her faith in him.

His gentle fingers began stroking the beautiful curves of her hips—curves he had just traced almost as carefully into paper with charcoal.

"Trust me," he whispered into the shell of her ear.

Donna felt her face suffuse with heat and she squeezed her eyes closed, nodding before she could talk herself out of it. He had been nothing but respectful with his hands—such incredibly talented hands—and so mesmerizingly gentle. She couldn't remember any other man ever spending this much time so utterly devoted to making her feel good—and this was the Doctor—as she reminded herself time and time again, he wasn't getting anything out of this, wasn't interested in so much as a snog.

At first his exploration over the top of the silk had been so tender she could hardly feel it but as time went on and she didn't object, he grew bolder. His hands smoothed over her bottom, massaging and caressing all the way down to her thighs. She groaned into the cushions and tightened her hands into fists. There was no way this should feel this good, he was her friend, her best friend, she shouldn't be having all these _feelings_.

He kept going and Donna pressed her thighs together, startled at the heat building between them.

"Oh am I doing it too hard?" he inquired as her muscles tensed under his hands. Donna gave a muffled yelp in reply.

"Donna?"

"No," she gasped, raising her head from the cushions, "not at all."

He started moving his hands in circles, kneading deep into the muscles and she moaned helplessly again. The sensations were spectacular. She couldn't think straight, couldn't possibly be expected to behave rationally when his touches felt _this incredible._

So Donna decided to stop worrying about what was rational, or proper, and admit to herself that finding herself in such a situation she should simply relax and enjoy it. After all, didn't her life with the Doctor take her into all sorts of unexpected and sometimes completely crazy circumstances? Was it any more crazy to be lying here, almost starkers, under the strong yet careful hands of her best friend as he gave her the best massage of her life?

_Yes. It __**is**__ more crazy,_ she thought to herself, because this was the Doctor. The Doctor touching her, the Doctor's unrelenting hands working her over as she moaned helplessly in delight. She had always loved his hands and hadn't been surprised to discover they were the hands of an artist; now it was all she could do not to wriggle in pleasure underneath them.

Finally, when her sighs of enjoyment were deteriorating into incoherent nonsense syllables punctuated by appreciative groans, his fingers traveled under the fabric of her wrap until his hands came to rest on the small of her back. He called to her very softly.

"Donna, are you still with me?"

"Unghfhhhnn," she mumbled.

"Ah, thought so!"

Even through the haze of pleasure in her mind, Donna could discern the pleased smile in his voice. She turned her head to try to see him but her hair was in the way. He dropped gracefully to the floor beside the chaise lounge and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

Now she could see his face. Yep. Proudly beaming. She couldn't help but smile back. Firelight twinkled in his eyes, she didn't think he had ever looked more beautiful.

"Still numb?" His question was quiet but the smile that played on his lips revealed his ever-present energy simmering under the surface.

"Mmm?"

"Your bum." His lips quirked.

She blew out a breath. "No. Anything but. I feel amazing, thank you."

He winked and smiled so broadly his dimple showed. Then he shuffled closer to her and gently brushed back more errant tendrils of hair from her face, the pads of his fingertips remaining on her cheek as soft as a butterfly's wings.

"So how about that cuppa?" she asked, for want of something to say. If she just kept gazing at him like this she was apt to give into her impulse to pull him onto the chaise lounge with her and snog him senseless.

"Tea! Excellent!"

He jumped to his feet and waggled his fingers for her to take his hand.

Donna raised herself up on her elbows. When the Doctor's gaze lowered and his eyes went round she realized her chest was bare and stopped lifting herself up.

"Um…why don't you go get the kettle started, Doctor?"

"What? Oh. Aren't you coming?"

She almost chuckled at how quickly his expression changed from entranced to despondent. "Just let me get some clothes on, Spaceman."

"Oh. Right."

She tilted her head to the side and hoped her hair was covering her cleavage. Well, sorta hoped. She loved the look in his eyes; he was so clearly a bloke sometimes, instead of the inscrutable Time Lord. Today more than ever before he seemed…well, besotted.

She shook herself to clear her head, telling herself not to get her hopes up, there was no use pining after him, she wasn't some lovesick teenager. This and all the other adages ran around her head in the now familiar litany she fell back to ground herself when she was around the Doctor.

Donna was focusing so hard on reminding herself that the Doctor did NOT feel that way about her that she almost completely missed seeing his eyes grow as large as saucers when her act of shaking sense into herself caused her bits to jiggle.

He cleared his throat abruptly, turning bright red before spinning on his heel and all but running out of the room.

Slowly and contemplatively, Donna sat up and reached for her dressing gown. Her litany was sounding less and less convincing with every repetition now that her spaceman was acting so…like a bloke who fancied her.

_But, it can't be, he said—he doesn't want—_

There was an answer here, so close…she felt it in that strange premonitory way the TARDIS sometimes used to communicate with her—or so Donna liked to think. When she'd asked him, the Doctor seemed fairly positive his ship didn't communicate with his companions.

The tingle was still there when she padded barefoot into the kitchen. The Doctor greeted her with a rakish grin and a steaming mug of tea. She accepted the mug and their fingers brushed—a movement so simple and yet so charged that she almost gasped. He didn't let go of the cup immediately, as if waiting to make sure her trembling hands were not going to drop it. His eyes had that look in them of something ancient and all-knowing and she fancied he could read her thoughts. She sat down hurriedly before he could notice the blush that such a notion brought to her cheeks.

"Is your back feeling better?"

"All better. Thank you," she replied simply and he nodded. Then he darted off around the kitchen, scooping up the biscuit tin under one arm, a plate of scones in another, his tea cup balanced precariously in between.

She watched him with amusement, unable to resist laughing at him a little, to which he replied with his usual click of his tongue before setting everything down on the table with a clatter. On the one hand it was like any other day in the TARDIS, the quiet teasing, the affectionate domesticity, the easy banter; it was the nicest home Donna had ever known.

But on the other hand, the tension she had thought might dissipate when they left the library was still very much hanging in the air between them.

"So, how'd it go?" she inquired casually as he took his seat next to her. "The painting, I mean."

Something shifted in his unfathomable dark eyes. He scooted his chair a little closer than usual (or was she just imagining it?).

"Good. Very good. More than I hoped for one sitting. If you're up for it, we could do some more?" He stuffed a scone in his mouth and didn't quite look at her.

"Today?" Donna was surprised, she thought he'd be itching to be off somewhere, some new planet. He got cooped up if they hung around the TARDIS too long. Or at least he used to, she mused, trying to recall the last time he'd whined at her that he needed to get outside.

"Or if you're tired of sitting, we can go somewhere," he offered around a mouthful of buttery scone. He still wasn't looking at her and she could have sworn he sounded lack luster compared to his usual enthusiasm for a new adventure.

"Maybe a short trip?" she asked. She still couldn't conceive that he might actually rather stay home with her.

"Mmm…" He slurped his tea and peered at her over the top of the mug. "You want to do more Christmas stuff?"

"Christmas stuff?"

"You know, visiting."

"Oh, um, yes. That would be nice." _And very little chance of being away too long,_ Donna added mentally. She'd been the one to insist that if they were going to do Christmas on the TARDIS it would only feel Christmassy if they could go visit their friends at _their_ Christmas time. The Doctor had hmmed and hahhed but then once they got to Sarah Jane's he'd had an absolute blast with her and Luke.

"But not your mum's?" he asked hopefully.

"Nah, save them for Christmas Eve. Maybe we can go shopping with Martha."

"On one condition."

"What's that?" Donna raised an eyebrow at him.

"If we're going anywhere near Jack, you have to put on clothes. Lots more clothes."

She smiled. "I wasn't going to go parading about Cardiff in my flippin' birthday suit, dumbo!"

But he obviously wasn't finished with that line of thought. He squirmed in his seat then finished his tea with a gulp. She reached out to take his empty cup to the sink when suddenly his long fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Donna?" He was tugging her so close she was practically in his lap. She was about to protest as a matter of form but she saw a flash of insecurity in his eyes when he said his next word.

"Jack."

She slipped her hand over his where he had gripped her arm. "It's alright, daft Spaceman."

"I saw the way he looked at you last time we refueled there," he muttered sulkily. Donna was taken aback. Was he jealous? The Doctor had certainly been surly the last time they had visited Cardiff but she had put that down to Jack just being, well, Jack. Come to think of it, her Time Lord had gotten more growly the more she and Jack had flirted.

"Hey," she said softly. He looked at her then and she was startled at how much he was allowing her to see of his emotions. She swallowed, unable to process what this could mean. "I'm with you, time boy. So don't worry, okay?"

She had an urge to ruffle his hair and call him another affectionate epithet and any other day that's exactly what she would have done—made light of things when he acted possessive like this. But now something was different, something had changed, something Donna was getting increasingly excited to explore.

She give him a quick hug and he held onto her just a little more tightly than usual, making her heart soar.


	3. Chapter 3

They hadn't been in Cardiff very long before Donna caught the Doctor casting sidelong glances at her and bouncing on the balls of his feet. The truth was all she could think about was going home with him, back to their cosy library and the fire the TARDIS would keep burning for them.

"What have you two been doing?"

Donna and the Doctor glanced at each other, guilt mirrored in their matching expressions.

"What?" Donna squeaked.

"Any more Ood adventures? Met any more famous dead people?" Martha wasn't even looking her way, she was too busy rifling through racks of Christmas-themed boxer shorts with startling efficiency, determined to find Mickey exactly the right pair.

"Oh," said Donna, catching her breath before she started wittering on about some of the planets the Doctor had taken her to recently. She skipped over the opalescent coral reefs where they had swum on Kataa Flo Ko for some reason she didn't want to think about (okay it probably had to do with how he'd looked at her in her bathing suit and how he'd held her close as they were treading water, but for some reason she didn't want to share that with anyone just yet).

"What _have_ you two been doing?" This time it was Jack asking as he sidled up to Donna and gave the Doctor a saucy wink. The captain clearly had _not _been oblivious to the stolen glances they had shared all afternoon or the crackling tension between them.

By unspoken agreement, neither had mentioned the portrait sitting and Donna was secretly happy about that. The intimacy of their session felt too private to be shared, even with Martha whom she had come to value as a friend.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "We have a project."

Donna stared at him in sudden panic. "We do?" she interjected in a high pitch.

"Yes. And actually, we'll have to get back there. It's time sensitive."

"Isn't that why you have a time machine?" Jack smirked.

"This is ON the TARDIS. It needs to be…tended to."

Just who are you _tending_ to, Doc?"

Donna glanced at Martha as Jack's tone grew more and more loaded. Thankfully the other woman seemed oblivious.

"I didn't say _who_. And it's none of your business, Captain," the Doctor answered tersely.

"Since we DO have a time machine," Donna soothed, putting a hand on each of their arms—an act which made Jack's smirk widen and the Doctor somehow both bristle and be mollified at the same time— "we can be right back here. How about we meet you for dinner on the bay?"

"Sounds good! Let's do Valentinos!" Martha chimed in as she twirled around to face them, triumphantly holding up a pair of black silk boxers with a little white satin bowtie on the front. She and Donna shared a grin.

Donna nodded her approval. "Very debonair. He'll love them!" She hoped the Doctor wasn't noticing Jack's hand, which was not only still on her arm, but was caressing her softly.

"You think?" Martha asked.

"Well, he'll pretend not to when he opens them but he'll secretly be hardly able to wait to try them on."

Jack was nodding in agreement then the Doctor was tugging Donna's hand, drawing her to his side.

"There's a raspberry mojito waiting for you at dinner, Donna, I'm buying," Jack called out after them. The Doctor was already marching her toward the exit. She threw Jack a smile over her shoulder and caught his wink. He didn't look perturbed at all that the Doctor was acting so strangely…possessive. If anything, the captain looked pleased. Just before they rounded the corner she saw him lean down to Martha and say something that looked like "told you".

"Allons-y!" the Doctor exclaimed, but to Donna's ears his abrupt cheerfulness sounded a little strained.

"Relax," she laughed as he pulled her back to the TARDIS, "we can still be back in time for dinner, even if we're away for days."

"Months even," the Doctor muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. Nope. Nothing. Here we are!" He waited until the door had closed firmly behind them and they were spinning their way to the vortex before he met her eyes.

"Ready?" Neither needed to clarify what he was asking about. Donna had wanted to be polite with their friends but the pull of their own little private world in the TARDIS library was so seductive it was all she could think about. Nonetheless, she felt compelled to maintain at least the appearance of nonchalance, it would never do to let him know just how hard she had fallen for him.

"We only shopped an hour or so you know."

"Then how come you didn't buy anything?" He nodded his head at her empty arms. He had her there, normally they'd return from shopping with the Doctor laden with her packages, him complaining loudly and happily the whole way.

She waved him off and disappeared to her room before he could question her further.

He was in the library again by the time she returned, wrapped once more in her robe. He came out from behind his easel and beamed at her, his whole face lighting up. Any trace of awkwardness she felt disappeared much more quickly this time. He closed the door behind her and held out his hand for her to take it.

"Warm enough? The old girl kept the fire going, I just topped it up with some logs."

"Yeah, it's nice and cosy. Best part of Christmas." She smiled at him as he squeezed her hand.

"The best part?" he inquired, his voice low in keeping with the quiet warmth of the room.

The festive decorations in Cardiff had been lovely, even the canned Christmas music had lifted her spirits, but this time with him still beat everything else. Donna didn't know how to explain that though, without sounding totally smitten.

"You'll think I'm a soppy git," she hedged.

"You know I won't."

"It's just…I went off Christmas when I got older but my favorite memories of Christmas were coming home at night and gathering in the living room, Mum fussing about making all her Christmas food, Dad forever fiddling with the fairy lights, Gramps talking to the telly. It was freezin' outside but we always had a fire going and the smell of Christmas pudding. We'd just…I dunno. It was nice." She ducked her head in embarrassment.

"It sounds magical," the Doctor said softly and she looked up at him. There was no trace of teasing in his eyes, just warmth and acceptance, and something else she didn't fully understand.

"This…feels magical too," she added tentatively and his face broke out in another beautiful smile. He grabbed her hand.

"Want some help with your robe again?" he asked, almost sounding hopeful.

"I think I got it, thanks."

"Oh." He held out the shawl to her and turned away, jamming his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet a little. He faced the hearth now and firelight glinted in his hair.

Donna hesitated. It had felt so strange to strip in front of him earlier, made only slightly easier by the fact that in the end it had been the Doctor who had mostly taken off her robe. He'd been in his sleep shorts but this time he was fully dressed, even the buttons of his pinstriped jacket were done up...and to be nude while he was fully clothed…that was even stranger.

She undid her belt slowly, letting herself experience the heady mix of vulnerability and excitement as her breasts and then the rest of her was bared only inches away from him. Enough of her earlier embarrassment had faded that now she could enjoy this. The Doctor appeared to be holding himself very still but when she looked closer she saw him swallow hard and a vein pulsed at his temple.

She drew the silky wrap around herself and tilted her head in curiosity.

"Doctor?" she whispered.

He slowly swiveled around to face her. "Right," he uttered. Then he said it again and seemingly of their own accord his eyes drifted over her body. He followed his gaze; the thin silk made even her areola prominent.

Donna tucked in one end of the wrap between her breasts, enjoying how his gaze was drawn to her fingers instantly. She pursed her lips. Maybe it was time for a little turnabout. Without allowing herself to overthink it, she stepped forward, almost completely closing the distance between them.

The Doctor uttered a little sound like a panicked kitten. "What are you?…Donna?" He tried to back up but stopped when her fingers threaded themselves between the buttons of his jacket.

"You said last time you'd be too hot if you wore all these clothes," she purred, beginning to undo his buttons and loving how he gulped in response.

"Er…"

"Feels strange, doesn't it? To have me undress you?" she asked softly and he looked at her, understanding dawning in his wide eyes.

The buttons undone, Donna reached up, gliding her hand inside his jacket and up his shirt as she did so. He was awfully tall when she was barefoot, she mused. With excruciating slowness she pushed his jacket from his shoulders. She went up on her tiptoes, which wasn't exactly necessary but did help. He moaned when she swayed her body so close to his that her breasts pressed against his chest.

The sensations that rippled through her took her by surprise and she wobbled against him. What was she doing? Who was she to think he even wanted this? She was no blonde 19 year old. His strong hands gentled on her waist, both steadying her and destroying what little was left of her internal balance. She gasped as his hands started to move, tenderly caressing her back all the way down to the curve of her hips

"Donna," he whispered achingly. She swallowed. The look in his eyes…it was almost as if he was full of desire—desire for her. She shook her head at herself. It couldn't be, it just couldn't, it made no sense—he couldn't feel that way, not for _her_.

A shadow had crossed his face when she shook her head and he took a half step back. Too late Donna realized he had thought she meant the gesture for him. "Sorry," he breathed, and if she didn't know better she could have sworn his voice was heavy with disappointment. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Why?" She regained her footing and he lifted her hands from her body, causing her to shiver in the absence of his touch.

"I didn't mean…" he began, his brow creasing. "It's just…you're so beautiful—" his voice caught.

Her hands moved self-consciously to the fold of her wrap. "Oh get off," she mumbled, looking down. "You don't have to say that stuff."

When she risked a glance up again she found him gaping at her. "Donna…"

"Don't, please, Doctor, I know I'm not. Just…don't, okay?"

He raked a hand through his hair and puffed out an exasperated breath, his eyes searching hers. "Fine," he said finally. "Fine. If you won't listen then I'll just have to show you."

Wordlessly he lifted his hands and freed her hair from its ponytail, taking great care as he did so not to pull or tug her hair. She stood there and let him, entranced by how strangely intimate it felt as he arranged her ginger locks around her face with equal care.

He held out his hand and she slid her palm across his. They both paused, the simple contact so potent that Donna sighed shakily despite herself.

When the Doctor spoke again his tone was gentler. "Let me paint you?" His thumb stroked the backs of her trembling fingers.

She nodded. He was being so tender with her she was not sure she could trust herself to speak.

He guided her by the hand to the chaise lounge and unhurriedly helped her rearrange herself in the same pose as before. His eyes were so intense on hers and Donna sensed he wanted to say something else but he stayed quiet.

He stepped back when she was in place, then crouched down at her side and moved her arm very gently a centimeter to the left. He brushed an errant curl from her forehead then nodded to himself.

Donna couldn't bear the silence any more. "Is it right?" she blurted out.

"It's perfect," he replied simply.

"How do you know? Don't you need to go look at the canvas? To make sure I'm in the right place?"

He tapped the side of his head. "In here."

"Oh. Does that mean you have a photographic memory or something?"

"Only for very important things," he answered her simply, as if it was obvious. "Got a lot of stuff in my head already. Too much stuff. Lots of stuff."

"No room then for my naked bits?"

He stared at her like she was insane all of a sudden. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and murmured, "Am I more likely to get in trouble if I pretend I've forgotten how beautiful you are unclothed?"

There was an intensity in his eyes that made Donna go still as he continued talking. He ghosted his hand over her body, close enough that she could almost feel static electricity in the wake of his not-quite caress.

"…Or if I admit that your image is burned into my hearts so I can relive it every time I close my eyes?"

She breathed out slowly as she stared at him. His face on a level with hers and his eyes boring into her as if it was the most important thing in the universe that she believe him. For just a moment, Donna allowed herself to see herself through his eyes and accept the truth in his words. It took her breath away.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor leaned back on his stool and let out a long, satisfied breath. His eyes lingered over his model, now completely relaxed on the chaise lounge. Her features were softened with sleep and the Doctor thought she had never looked more beautiful. He was pleased with how he had captured the interplay of light and shadow across her face and even though her eyes were now closed, his mind had easily filled in the details from many memories. He looked back to the portrait where her eyes shone in the reflected firelight on the canvas. The pools of blue had so much compassion and strength looking back at him, teasing, challenging, loving...His fingertips ached to touch her, to caress her, but the paint was not yet dry.

He lifted his brush again, intent upon once more channeling his pent up desire onto the canvas but then Donna shifted in her sleep and he froze: her wrap had opened slightly as she stirred. The Doctor almost dropped his paintbrush as his fingers twitched with the compulsion to be touching her.

He stalked across the room, the painting forgotten. She could get cold, he reasoned; he was just coming to put more logs on the fire. He dutifully tossed some more wood on the merrily burning flames, having to tear his eyes away from the vision before him just for a second to make sure the logs actually made it into the fireplace.

Well, now that he was over here he would just check on her. He was falling to his knees at her side even as his belated justifications rang hollow in his head.

Where the silk had fallen open slightly there was a slit revealing tantalizing alabaster skin from the lower curve of her right breast all the way down her body. His eyes hungrily roamed the contour of her bosom then the gentle curve of her belly, down to where her hip gave way to the V at the tops of her thighs. As firelight glinted in the red curls the Doctor had a sudden mental flash of what it would be like to bury his face in that valley. That fantastical notion held him captive for several minutes as he knelt there, his eyes drinking her in.

Then his keen eye for beauty followed the lines of her exposed leg: a long swathe of pale skin dusted with barely visible freckles. It was a rare delight for the Doctor to simply be able to freely gaze upon her. He studied every freckle, committing it to memory. He loved how relaxed she looked and he held still, just breathing her in, for quite some time.

The urge to return to his easel to continue painting her, to fill in details now revealed to him, grew until he could resist it no further, even though it meant leaving her side. He gazed at the opening of the wrap…if he could part it just an inch more…His hand hovered over her midriff and his eyes flicked to her face. Would she wake up at his touch? The way she looked right now, so incredibly womanly, he would do almost anything to capture that beauty, to show her once and for all how spectacular she was.

And, if he was honest with himself, his motives were selfish too. He could no easier keep companions by his side than a small child could hold fine sand cupped in his hand. No matter how careful he was they escaped through his fingers…or sometimes they were wrenched from his grasp.

_Don't leave me,_ he urged her silently, not quite commanding, not quite begging. If anything, he felt as if he was praying. _Never leave me._

A portrait…it had to be by his own hand, to immortalize her as _he _saw her. Then she would be his forever, unchanging, never leaving him, those glittering eyes beholding him long after her body was dust.

His decision made, the Time Lord reached to part the silk…but then hesitated again, guilt nagging him. She trusted him and that meant everything to him. Serendipitously, Donna chose that exact moment to stretch out on the couch again, further parting the wrap all by herself.

The Doctor held his breath, waiting to see if she should wake and knowing that if he was to touch her covering at all it should be to close the edges and protect her modesty. The material had separated further so that it was just enough to expose such a symphony of contours from her navel to her hip that he trembled in pleasure. He could already feel the sheer joy it would be to commit this sensuous form forever to the canvas. He couldn't bring himself to close the edges of the silk, no matter how much his sense of propriety demanded it.

He rose to his feet again and stared down at her, tumbling waves of red framing her face, so elegant in repose. Like a queen, _his_ queen. She belonged to him now. Oh she would certainly have something to say about that if she could hear his thoughts. He smiled to himself and returned to the easel.

As the sumptuous lines of her belly came to life under his hand, the Doctor started to feel almost light-headed. His internal composure wavered even as his hand was more steady than ever, sweeping the sensual curves under his brush with masterful strokes. He longed to stroke her skin for himself, to whisper words of adoration into the very peaks and sinuous valleys that now sprung into being under his hand. Everything just felt so fitting, so _right._ Like something was just beginning.

As he worked, the rhythm took over and timelines spread out before him, dancing before his eyes. He could see her tummy swollen with child, with _his_ child,could feel heartbeats, mother and baby, under his hand as sure as he could feel the warm wood of his paintbrush in his grip. The very thought of it shook him to the core but then the more he painted the more the sense of their entwined destiny welled up inside him—at once ethereal and yet unshakeable.

When he was finished he stood back to admire his workmanship and to catch his breath. He hadn't just drawn the woman he loved, he was certain of that. The clouds that usually covered his vision of his own future had been momentarily dispelled in the thrall of his art and he knew he had drawn the mother of his child, the belly where such precious life would be knit together, the arms that would cradle him, the breast that would give him succor. The beauty of those curves now overwhelmed him in an entirely different way, a wellspring of hope bubbling inside him; he had drawn the cradle of his new civilization.

He stumbled over to her and sat heavily on the rug, pressing his lips to her forehead then burying his face in her hair and breathing her in. His Donna. His bride although she didn't even know it yet. His wife and mother of his children.

Donna stirred. She was having the most wonderful dreams, the warm smoky air and the crackle of the fire taking her mind back to childhood Christmases. Christmases with her father still around, it just hadn't been the same since they had lost him. She woke slowly, coming back to herself, the silk against her skin reminding her where she was. Blinking a few times, she tried to focus on the easel. The Doctor was no longer standing behind it.

Before she could fully process this, something moved behind her and she turned her head slightly to find his face close to hers. He was wearing one of his trademark wide smiles, beaming at her like they had just shared a marvelous secret. She smiled back at him, amused and feeling a surge of affection for him.

"Hi," she murmured sleepily.

He grinned in response and there was a wildness in his eyes she had never seen before. "Marry me!"

She snorted. "Must be some portrait, Michel Angelo, or are you high on the fumes from the paint?"

His grin just grew impossibly wider in response and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Donna blinked in surprise. His lips lingered and she felt her stomach do a little flip. Suddenly she was wide awake.

"What's going on, you daft Spaceman?" She searched his eyes to see if he was teasing her but could find only sincerity in them.

He shrugged, continuing to grin at her helplessly, then he reached out and stroked her hair with a reverence that belied his goofy smile.

"How's the painting?" she asked carefully after a while of the two of them just regarding each other.

"It's almost finished." He nodded happily. She could see how much bliss the role of artist brought him. Donna loved to watch him work, he was so intense at points, and so fun-loving at others, bubbling over with unfettered joy. She was surprised he wasn't jumping up to get back to it. Why had he stopped in the first place?

"Is everything all right?"

"Of course! Molto Bene! Bellissima! I think…" A hopeful shyness crossed his features. "I think you will like it, Earthgirl." He moved even closer to her, everything in his body language focused solely on her. Donna felt her heartbeat quicken and that tingle again, fluttering in her chest.

"How do you feel?" he breathed.

"What do you mean?" she squeaked, more confused than ever.

"Just…are you stiff? Do you need a break or anything or can you pose for me a little longer?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. He waited and finally it dawned on her what he must be asking.

"Oh."

"What's wrong? Donna?" His hand moved solicitously from her hair to her shoulder.

"You mean…when do you think you'll…be ready for the nude bit?"

He touched her tenderly. "Whenever you are."

She didn't miss his eyes as they traveled down the length of her body and then suddenly she became aware of the warmth from the fire directly on her skin. She followed his gaze then squeaked again when she saw the wrap had fallen open, revealing a generous portion of her body to the Doctor.

"It came open while you slept. It's all right," he added comfortingly when her mouth opened but she didn't utter another sound.

She shut her eyes. Right. He'd already seen her. It was just…

"Don't close your eyes, please. Look at yourself, look at the firelight on your skin, you are _beautiful, _Donna." His voice was quiet, almost a plea.

She swallowed and did as he asked. She wanted to suck her stomach in at least but it felt too late now. She felt a blush warming her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His whisper was warm and there was understanding in his eyes. She nodded.

"Do you want to take a break?" he offered again.

She took a deep breath. "No. Let's just get on with it." She tried for a matter of fact tone.

His hand moved on her shoulder again, his caresses soothing. "It's all going to be all right, Donna…it's all going to be…magnificent." His voice caught and she looked at him. His dark eyes glowed with something she couldn't place but which made him radiant. They shared a tentative smile.

"May I?" He rested his fingertips very lightly along the edge of the fabric that was all that was between his hand and her skin.

"Oh."

"Then you won't have to move," he supplied, and she could hear his hopeful tone underneath his helpful demeanor. She guessed it would mean so much to him if she would trust him with removing her covering.

"So you won't have to get me back into exactly the same position you mean?"

"Exactly," he agreed. "I'm at a delicate point in my work." On the word delicate he fingered the seam of the silk, brushing a fingertip against the soft swell of her breast as she drew a deep breath. She stared at him. He looked stunned but he wasn't flustered or tripping over his words to apologize unnecessarily for the gentle touch. He did utter a quiet and respectful "sorry", however.

Her chest rose and fell millimeters from his fingers and he appeared momentarily mesmerized. Donna nodded and watched, now enchanted herself, as he slowly parted the silken material, unwrapping her as if she was a precious treasure.

If either of them recalled his earlier point that he had her body position perfectly memorized, so it shouldn't matter who undid the covering, neither felt it necessary to mention it.

The Doctor took his time filing in the glorious details of Donna's body that were now unveiled to him as she lay completely naked underneath his artist's scrutiny. He hummed and "ah-ed" his way through a delicious hour, taking extra time with getting her full, perfect breasts _just_ right, enjoying them all the more now that they felt like they were his to appreciate—or would be his, once she consented to become his wife.

He tried to counsel himself to slow down, to remember she wasn't privy to the same secrets her exquisite body had revealed to him. Nonetheless, soon his desire to be close to her again overcame even his love of painting. He couldn't wait to get back to her side; she was so alluring, lying there, occasionally giving him a shy smile when he would make a particularly appreciative noise.

"All done?" she asked, looking surprised when he set his brushes down with a clatter and bounded back to her.

"Mostly. Just some finishing touches I can work on later. You must be getting stiff though?"

"Mmm, a little. Nothing one of your amazing back rubs wouldn't fix." Her lips quirked as she said it and he recognized her self-conscious tone—only half-serious as if she was afraid he would reject her request.

"You shall have as many back rubs as you desire, my lady," he promised.

"My lady?" she mouthed. One perfect eyebrow rose in disbelief and she searched his eyes again. He sighed brokenly as he recognized she was still looking for signs he was teasing her. He knelt down in front of her on one knee and she looked at him askance.

Saying nothing, he helped her untangle her arm from behind her head, very gently brushing her hair aside. He brought her arm down to her side, massaging delicately as he did so, feeling for any taut muscles. She seemed more relaxed this time he was pleased to note.

"Bout time I stop all this loafin' around then?" Her tone was deliberately light but her expression was curious as she watched him slowly running his hands up and down her bare arm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her other hand reach for the edge of her wrap to cover herself again and he stopped her with a hand over hers.

She turned questioning eyes up to his. He was leaning over her now, his shirt sleeve brushing against her nipple, causing her pupils to dilate and a tremor to run throughout her body.

"Donna…"

"Doctor?" Her breathing hitched.

He wasn't ready to have this time with her end. He knew once she covered herself the intimacy between them would change and he didn't know how to get it back.

"Can I touch you?"

Her eyes widened and the Doctor backtracked hurriedly.

"I don't mean, er, I meant…not like that. Just…welllll…I just…" His composure disintegrated under her incredulous gaze.

He indicated her midriff with a shaky hand and dared to glance up at her again. To his surprise, she was nodding slowly.

"Donna?"

"It's okay," she said haltingly.

He mentally thanked several deities, real and fictional, that she hadn't asked him why. He didn't fancy trying to explain to her that he'd had a vision of touching her comely curves even as his brush had stroked them into being with a very careful hand. Or that he'd had a sense, a very strong sense, that his fingertips would be touching the source of his future, of _their _future.

Even more carefully than he had approached drawing the lines of her body on the canvas, the Doctor laid his hand on Donna's waist. She was his canvas now, her porcelain skin as smooth as satin under his palm.

He was incredibly gentle as he followed the contours of her abdomen, sensitive to her every sigh and stifled gasp. Her eyes, still round, followed the movements of his hand as he traced promises where the firelight flickered across her pale skin.

"You're lovely, so lovely," he exclaimed quietly. The Doctor was quite simply overwhelmed with how astoundingly good it felt to touch her so intimately. He smoothed his fingers across her navel and felt a rush of promise and mystique, the potential timelines unfurling before him. Their future coalesced in a mist that obscured the details but filled him with a sense of exquisite bliss that brought tears to his eyes and a stirring in places inside of him he had long thought to be shriveled and dead.

He closed his eyes to savor the mounting euphoria, his every nerve ending tingling as his fingertips swirled the eddies of time across her skin. Donna released an appreciative sigh then a gasp and he opened his eyes to see her staring at him in wonder.

"Doctor…what is that?" she stammered.

"Donna…" His voice cracked with emotion.

She answered him with a barely coherent moan as her eyes grew heavy lidded. As he watched, goosebumps broke out on her skin, spreading outward from under his hand, across her stomach and despite his best intentions, his eyes were drawn to her beautiful breasts. He stared, rapt, as the skin around her nipples tightened with the growing flush that followed in the wake of the goosebumps.

When he could tear his eyes away from those delectable hardening peaks, his gaze continued upwards to meet hers.

"You can feel it too," he whispered, awed. His hand pressed more firmly on her stomach and her eyes half-closed again in response. Her chest rose and fell with more effort than usual.

"I don't understand," she ventured breathlessly after a few more minutes of loaded silence between them. "But I like how it feels." Her hand came up to cover his and a stillness and peace settled over them. The euphoria faded gradually and the Doctor slumped down, momentarily exhausted. He rested his head on her stomach and all but purred in delight when her fingers raked tenderly through his hair.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor lifted his head when Donna shifted against him eventually.

"Getting stiff?" he asked quietly, his eyes serious now, searching hers as if worried he had gone too far.

"Doctor, what _was _that?"

"I don't know if I can explain…I don't quite know myself," he confessed, running one hand through his hair and gracing her with a sheepish smile.

Donna nodded in understanding, trying to quell the excited butterflies in her stomach. She drew the luxurious silk around her body and sighed happily, still in the throes of whatever had just passed between them. She didn't want to think about it too much right now, didn't want to _over_think what it could mean. She noted a forlorn look cross his face as she closed the wrap around herself and sat up.

"Okay?" she inquired softly.

He helped her up as she settled into a sitting position beside him. "I wish you didn't feel like you have to cover yourself up around me," he began and then stopped.

Donna hesitated, eventually falling back on the self-deprecating humor she had hidden behind her whole life. "You don't want to see my bits on display all night do you? Gravity isn't kind to a woman out of her twenties you know. Hey, maybe if you had an anti-gravity spaceship…"

His finger on her lips silenced her. "Will you let me show you how spectacular you are?"

"Geroff!" she said, embarrassed.

Again he hushed her, one hand coming around the back of her neck, smoothing her hair down and simultaneously pulling her closer until his lips met her forehead.

"Donna, my Donna," he chanted under his breath. There was another shiver of the growing connection between them; it was intoxicating.

Without saying another word he took her hand and got to his feet. She followed him up, accepting his arm around her as he waited to make sure she was steady after lying down in one position for so long.

Then he led her over to the canvas. She almost balked, not sure she was ready for this, although truthfully she'd been dying of curiosity since he began. She tightened her hold on the Doctor's hand and rounded the easel.

She gasped loudly. At first glance she thought she was looking at a genuine work of art, except the paint was fresh and it was her! It really was her…except…she didn't look that that. Did she? She peered closer and her hand flew to her mouth—it was indeed her image and she was naked. She had known this of course, but somehow to see her own exposed body rendered so perfectly by this man…by the Doctor—he was undoubtedly the most talented artist she had ever known—he had made even her curves flow with…with beauty. Overwhelmed, a hot blush swept through her along with another echo of that strange prickling feeling radiating from both within herself and from the man holding her hand.

"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously, after a moment of silence.

"You made me look beautiful!" she blurted out.

"No, I didn't." He moved to stand behind her, looping his long arms around her gracefully. He lowered his head until his mouth was at her ear. "You ARE beautiful."

She swiveled in his embrace, unable to look at the portrait anymore in case the tears in her eyes spilled over.

"That's…that's how you see me?"

"Yes. Beautiful. Lavishly beautiful. Glorious. Magnificent." He brought her hand to his lips and punctuated every word with a kiss to the back of her hand. She could see in his eyes how much he wanted her to believe it, how much _he _believed it.

"You didn't even make me look skinny."

His eyes boggled at her. _"What?"_ He frowned as if the very notion was preposterous. "Donna, I love your curves." His eyes trailed down her body, the tip of his tongue curling against the roof of his mouth as if he wanted to lick her. Donna flushed at the thought. Then he dragged his eyes up to meet hers again. There was no denying the ferocious desire burning inside him, it was her turn to be stunned.

Something was going to happen, she realized. The way he was looking at her, the way his hands were moving on her arms, the way his tongue darted out now to moisten his lips. He began to lean in.

"Hold on, mister," she said tremulously. She had his full attention, his body stilling as her hands found his tie. "You have me at a disadvantage," she whispered. She had hoped for an alluring murmur but it was all she could do to hold herself together.

She wanted him, oh so much, and she could no longer doubt that her feelings were returned. But she was his partner in this as in their whole life together. She didn't merely follow him blindly, she met him as an equal, giving as good as she got.

He was frozen, only his eyes moved, dark and intense as he watched her. The tie felt slick between her shaky fingers as she undid it, slowly but surely snaking it off from around his neck. He sucked in a breath sharply as she came closer and undid his collar.

This close she could see his pupils dilate even more. His eyes were pools of black as her fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, every button so slowly coming undone, yielding to her fingers. Her front brushed his as she swayed against him then pushed the shirt down his arms. His throat worked but he held still, captive in her arms.

Donna untucked his vest and pulled that up too, quite deliberately running her fingernails through his chest hair as she did so, still moving gradually, watching his reaction as his eyes grew as wide as saucers and his breath came in pants. This time as she leaned up against him, she let her silk-draped nipples enjoy the rasp of his chest hair, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Without warning, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, clamping her in place against him before she could back away again.

She gasped for breath, her heartbeat quickening. But when she looked in his eyes he was even more undone than she was, Donna couldn't even be certain he knew he was holding her.

There was nothing she wanted more than to surrender to his strong hands on her body but doing so would not redress the imbalance between them. Just as she had stripped for him, the Doctor was the one whose heart had been exposed. His eyes held back nothing from her now. Donna could not countenance leaving the man she loved remain so vulnerable without somehow reassuring him his love was returned. So she, in turn, would strip him.

He was holding her around her waist so tightly she could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against hers. She looked at him, breathing with him, until he slowly began to relax. She laid her hand on his cheek then slowly trailed down until she was pushing on his chest. Her touch was light—there was no way she could escape his iron grip just by force alone—but he seemed to understand and when she raised one eyebrow, he loosened his hold slightly.

It was just enough give for Donna to slide one hand between their bodies. She let her fingers trail slowly back down his sternum, his hearts racing under her fingertips as he watched her with very dark eyes. She almost hesitated then, teetering on her tiptoes still, but then she gathered her courage and let her hand go further down until she could fumble with his belt buckle.

The Doctor's jaw dropped in surprise. He made a sound that could have been her name but came out as more of a gurgle. As she made short work of his belt and buttons his mouth opened and closed a few times but he made no move to stop her.

Now it was his turn to gasp as Donna undid his trousers and jiggled them off his narrow hips. With the jiggling she thought for sure his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Nonetheless, his arm still gripped her tightly like she was his lifeline and she didn't have a lot of room to maneuver—not that she wanted him to let her go, anything but.

She wasn't surprised when her wrap came undone but she took her time finding the edges of the fabric and pulling them back together, giving him quite the eyeful in the process.

He had pulled his hips away from her as soon as his trousers were gone and she quirked her lips. Yep. Definitely a bloke. But ever the gentleman.

"You should step out of your trousers before they trip you up," she suggested helpfully, batting her eyes at him.

The Doctor appeared to be bedazzled, helpless but to obey. He spluttered her name even as he did as she asked until he stood before her only in his underwear. Donna smiled at him encouragingly, liking what she saw, liking it very much. He still looked befuddled, his mouth opening and closing a few times.

"Doctor?"

He gestured helplessly at his state of undress in response, his eyes almost frantic.

"What? You were in your shorts before." Her gentle smile and the slight banter in her tone seemed to break his silence.

"Yes, my _shorts_, much more substantial than…than…these…" he spluttered.

"Boxers?" She shrugged. "It's okay."

"But they're not—Donna, they're not dimensionally retrofitted." He scrubbed a hand over his face.

_Yes, I can see that,_ she thought to herself with an inward grin. "It's okay," she repeated, giving him a soft smile when he dared to meet her eyes again. "C'mere."

He stepped forward automatically, his eyes widening even as he obeyed. Donna took his hand and led him over to the fireplace, turning him around so he was in front of the tree, its gorgeous forest scent surrounding them. Christmas lights twinkled in his hair. Her toes scrunched into the soft pile rug as she closed the rest of the distance between them and laid her hands on his surprisingly well-toned pecs. She allowed herself to brush against his impressively tenting boxers as his chest rose and fell alarmingly quickly under her palms.

Swallowing hard, her hands began exploring him, taking her time to caress his chest, his shoulders, his back, loving the play of his wiry muscles under her palms. She let the tenderness of her embrace mirror the way he had touched her earlier, wanting to communicate to him how it had felt to be treated so delicately and yet with such passion. As strange as it felt to her, she was claiming him, exploring every inch, sensing his body as if it were her own.

All teasing had long since evaporated between them. His breathing grew even more ragged when her fingers found the edge of his underwear. At his startled gasp, Donna pulled back and looked at him. His eyes implored her to continue but first she lifted his hands. Until now he had kept them at his sides although every twitch of his nerves told her how much he wanted to touch her in return.

Donna placed his palms at her collarbone, reveling in his hands on her skin again, and whispered, "I don't want there to be anything between us."

He exhaled in a rush and nodded, moving his jittery fingers to the edges of her wrap, undoing it as she slid his boxers down his slim hips. The silk of her covering slipped to the floor just as he kicked off his underwear and then they were both naked, staring into each other's eyes as the enormity of what was happening sunk in.

"It's going to be all right," he breathed, his voice as unsteady as his hands. He reached for her hesitantly. Donna moved into his embrace, loving the feel of their bodies as they came together in a hug, skin to skin for the first time. It was like any of their numerous, daily cuddles; the Doctor liked hugs and she did too. But it was also amazingly different now, not just because there was no clothing between them.

His hands on her body were more reverent than ever before. She sighed brokenly into his chest hair, surrendering to him—to this—to whatever was blossoming between them. He didn't press into her but she was aware of his length nonetheless, hard against the softness of her stomach. Although she hadn't had the courage to glance down when his shorts were off, now Donna couldn't deny the undeniable evidence that her attraction to him was returned.

She looked down at their entwined bodies, seeing firelight glinting off the solid muscles in his thigh as he clenched around her hip. He stopped just short of rubbing himself against her but she could feel him quivering with pent up need. Her own knees wobbled and he held her tighter against him.

"Donna," he ground out. He seemed to flit between moments of control and moments like these when he clung to her like she was his lifeline. "I…Donna..." Desperation was evident in his low tone.

"I know, I do too," she promised, confused yet happy. Her hands moved over his back, soothing him. He pulsed against her stomach in response.

"I want," he paused to gasp for breath, then tenderly tangled his fingers in her hair moving her face from his chest until she could see his eyes. "I want you, all of you. I want you as my partner, my mate, my lover, my wi—my everything."

Had he been about to say what he thought he was going to say? Before Donna could wrap her mind around it, he went on. "But I don't want to rush you."

"I want it too," she was quick to reassure him, bringing her hands up to cover his. "I want _you_."

His answering smile was beatific and a new light shone in his eyes. He kissed her for the first time then, leaning in and waiting until she turned her face up to his. When their lips met Donna felt the tingle that had been kindling inside her all night flicker into flame.

His lips moved over hers supremely gently at first. Donna had never been kissed like this before, like he was…_honoring_ her with his embrace. Then he was tasting her and she opened to him joyfully.

"Wow," she breathed when they finally parted. She was awestruck.

"Thank you," he whispered. Donna studied him, still feeling dazed. He spoke as hushed as if they were in church but he was smiling again, like a man given a last minute reprieve. Or possibly like he was falling down drunk.

She cocked her head to the side, considering asking him again if he was sure he wasn't high on paint fumes. But then he sobered and straightened a little.

"We have a lot to talk about."

"Yes." She smiled at his sudden seriousness.

"There will be preparations," he intimated. "That is, if you want to do this properly, the traditional way?"

The fire crackled in the ensuing silence. Donna blinked. She didn't know exactly what he was talking about but she knew this man deeply and she could tell it was incredibly important to him to do this the _proper_ way – whatever 'this'actually was. And she was starting to have an idea, an idea that made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy—so she nodded.

"That sounds good," she said slowly, still hesitant to believe this was all really happening. She squealed when he suddenly picked her up and twirled her around in front of the fire.

Her shrieks were then muffled as his lips met hers and the Doctor kissed her for all he was worth. Donna wound her arms around her neck and poured everything she had into kissing him back.

It was indeed weeks before they met up with Jack and his crew at Valentinos. It took Martha mere seconds before she was crowing over the shining ring on Donna's finger.


	6. Chapter 6 (Really Ch1 of the follow up)

**People are following my story "Portrait of a Lady" on , but as I tried to let people know, I cannot continue this story in a forum where NC-17 stories are not permitted. So here is the PG-13 part of the follow up, with links at the end for where to find the rest of the story (if you are over 18) on my livejournal with the username Sykira.**

**Summary: Wedding night story, fluff, then mindsex. More shy Donna therapy fic. **

**As always, baskets of gratitude to lj user="kgriess" for proofing **

The bride sat down on the edge of the huge four-poster bed in a satisfying rustle of expensive chiffon and lacy tulle. Butterflies fluttered in her tummy and she started fingering the delicate satin threading brocade of her pristine white wedding dress.

She felt the bed dip and her new husband came up behind her, lifting her hair and running his fingers through the tumbling red ringlets before resting his hands on her shoulders and dropping a kiss on her cheek.

When she didn't move he sat down beside her and gently took her hand.

"You look so beautiful," he said reverently, as if not wanting to break the spell between them and she blushed before waving him away. Then she peeked at him beneath long eyelashes and returned his smile a little shyly.

"Thank you, for today," she half-whispered. "It was perfect. It was everything I ever wanted it to be." I_But had long since given up on,/I_ she didn't add.

"I'm glad," he replied simply, his long fingers joining hers in fiddling with the intricate embroidery of her long white dress.

"You gave me the perfect wedding day…" she hesitated, then used his name, so unfamiliar on her lips, and his smile broadened. She took a deep breath, and continued, "And now I want to give you the perfect wedding night…"

She paused as his fingers interlaced with hers and he looked at her intently.

"…but I haven't got a bloomin' clue where to begin," she finished in a rush, her eyebrows coming together as she studiously looked down at their hands.

He smiled a little and stroked his fingers over hers reassuringly. "Don't worry, just follow me, you'll be perfect, I know you will."

She was almost surprised when he didn't immediately launch into his usual soothing words that he used to calm her anytime things became too heated between them and she startled to get nervous. Words about it being okay, that this new dimension to their relationship had barely begun, how in this aspect of things there was no hurry, that he was content just to be close to her, a litany that would end with him drawing her into his arms until they fell asleep, warm and safe and together.

But tonight was different, she reminded herself, this was their wedding night. A beautiful traditional wedding, synthesizing human and Gallifreyan customs, that he had pressed for and she had secretly craved too.

She loved that he had been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, and so soon after their relationship had become romantic. Granted it had taken them so long to get to the point of even kissing it wasn't really like they had rushed it or anything, but now here they were, and she couldn't be happier.

Or more anxious. She knew enough to know it wasn't going to be quite the same as with a human man, her groom had been straightforward about that part during the single stilted conversation he had tried to have with her about the subject.

She thought back to that day when he had drawn her aside in the midst of a mad flurry of wedding prep. She was glad they'd just given themselves scant weeks to put it together because she could easily see how it would have taken over her life for much longer if it had been a long engagement. He had swooped in for a hug, holding her close and murmuring in her ear too softly for the others to hear, asking for some time to discuss their 'coming together'.

It had taken a second for her to realize what he meant, and another few minutes to extricate herself from flower choices and hair options and place settings and whatever else her mother and Martha had been obsessing over.

Making sure they would not be disturbed, he had taken her deep into the maze of winding paths at Chiswick House walled gardens and when she had started blushing at his words he had held her hand but pressed on anyway. It had been the perfect time to come clean with him about how much the wedding night was unnerving her, especially when he told that until consummation a Gallifreyan couple were not yet considered married, the ceremonial vows being only a prelude to a joining that was more than physical.

But instead the words to voice her misgivings refused to come and so for the most part she simply listened and nodded and tried to look like she could relate to what he was so gently explaining.

He had seemed slightly disappointed that she wasn't talking much in return, and had softly asked if she was okay. She had passed it off as being overwhelmed with the wedding preparations, which was true, and being too busy to think as far ahead as the wedding night, which was somewhat less true.

But now here they were. All the rituals completed, the requirements fulfilled, the steps walked together to bring them to this night.

She raised her eyes to those of her new husband and saw no urgency there, simply warmth. She could tell he was waiting, but still she made no move.

"Are you very tired?" he breathed and she bit her lip. Was he going to give her an out? Tonight of all nights?

"I know it has been a long day…" he continued. She slid her hand over his and shook her head quickly before she could take him up on his offer.

"I'm not too tired," she said, shakily. "I just… I don't know… where to begin." She quirked her eyebrows apologetically and he smiled reassuringly, squeezing her hand.

"Well then, my blushing bride, I think I can help with that."

Bringing her hand to his lips he dropped a kiss there then rising to his feet he went over to the fireplace. Heaping wood on the glowing embers and poking at it he soon banished the chill from their intimate little log cabin, despite the snow frosting the windows and the gale blowing outside.

He extinguished the lamps, the light from the fire creating a warm glow that was more than enough to see by. Then he undid his converse and pulled off his socks too, and she smiled as she watched him scrunch his toes into the deep furry rug stretched out in front of the fireplace. Even just these few minutes of watching him putter around the fire, knowing he was giving her some space, was enough to settle her nerves for the time being.

Slipping off her own shoes the bride took a deep breath and came over to join him in front of the fire, admiring how the flames danced in his eyes as he watched her. They joined hands as she went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he returned the kiss eagerly.

"I need to freshen up a little," she mumbled with a shy smile, pulling away from him reluctantly.

"Okay, I'll wait here."

Knowing that she could escape at any moment under the pretext of cleaning up gave her fleeting courage to take the next step. She made no move in the direction of the tiny bathroom, instead bringing his hands, still clutched in her own, to her waist and resting them there.

"I don't think this dress and I are going to have much room in there," she said, the shy smile still playing about her lips, then she ducked her head a little. "Maybe you can help me get out of it first?"

His eyes widened but he didn't miss a beat, pulling her closer as his hands moved around her waist to start undoing the lattice of ribbons holding her dress up. She was surprised at how little fear she felt now, but she shivered in anticipation of his reaction to seeing her without the dress.

The shimmering alien fabric of her underclothes had been next to her skin all day, simultaneously constraining and yet so soft. It was Jack who had found it for her, presenting it to her in an ornate wooden chest with a flourish. No matter how much she pressed him he wouldn't reveal his source, so she never did find out how he knew exactly what a Gallifreyan bride would wear on her wedding night.

In a way it was like a human bridal corset and garter set, but the material was utterly strange, so soft over the structure that encased her, such intricate stitching, ivory on white so you could only see the patterns in certain light: ever-changing designs of illegible words and stylized images, some scenes of family life, some of building and creating, some absolutely provocative that made her blush and be grateful you had to look really close to make them out.

She adored it, the overall effect made her feel like a princess, and the fit was so perfect it was almost as if it had been made for her. The boning curved to her body from the tops of her thighs right up to where it accentuated the swell of her breasts to an almost scandalous degree – she had had to have her mum sew in a heart-shaped embroidered façade into the plunging neckline of the dress just to stop her cleavage from spilling inappropriately over the neckline of the wedding gown itself.

The result of all that tightly fitting silk and lacework had left her just a touch breathless. Over the whole piece was a thin shift of what felt like sheer chiffon, brilliant white like sparkling snow and adding a few inches of modesty where it extended from her hips to just over the tops of her stockings.

As her groom reverently lowered her dress, going so slowly and watching her eyes as he did so, Donna felt excitement build inside her. At first he was so intent on her face he wasn't even looking down at her body as he slowly revealed more of her to him with his gentle hands peeling away the wedding dress.

His fingers brushed against the shimmering fabric and all of a sudden he stopped moving, a slight frown of confusion crossing his features as he looked down. He moved back a little, his eyes growing huge and his throat working. He opened his mouth to speak but made no sound.

Trembling with suppressed nerves and excitement now, Donna stepped out of the dress completely and draped it over a nearby chair before turning back and looking at her groom, who was still staring at her with dark and hungry eyes.

There was a moment when neither of them moved as he simply stared, as if drinking her in and she felt a flush of embarrassment pink her cheeks, biting her lip again to refrain from uttering some nervous quip like "take a picture, Spaceman, it'll last longer." Finally when he still hadn't said anything she couldn't take it anymore and tilting her head to the side she asked him with as much control as she could muster if he was all right?

"How did you…?" There was wonder in his voice, and not a small amount of admiration.

"Should I not have?" she asked, suddenly nervous that she had gone too far, that this was one Gallifreyan tradition she should have stayed away from. But he had been so excited to weave their nuptials together with every tradition honored.

His eyes flicked to hers and showed her unabashed desire coursing through him. Right there and then all her worries about not being attractive enough for her husband went right out the window.

But for all his abundant desire, he made no further move toward her.

She swallowed, her mouth had gone dry. "Doctor?"

He blinked a few times and drew himself up, his eyes still roaming her body. "Sorry. Just… I wasn't expecting… I don't know how you knew to wear that, or how you even found one, and right now I don't even want to know."

"Is it alright?"

He looked at her intently and closed the distance between them suddenly.

"It's perfect. Utterly perfect. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And you are mine. And you are brilliant. Brilliant!" He moved his arms around her and she was surprised to realize he was shaking too as she moved into his embrace. He hugged her very tightly and she sighed against his chest.

"You are breathtaking, my Donna," he murmured into her hair. And then he just held her, whispering in Gallifreyan and crushing her body against his.

After a few minutes, Donna wondered if seeing her in her underclothes had made this suddenly very real for him too, or if she was just projecting. She could clearly feel his body's reaction to hers, now that they were pressed together, but he was just holding her, rubbing the fabric of her undergarments between his fingers over and over again.

He was probably just waiting for her to make a move? Donna shifted a little against him and he pulled back to stare in her eyes. Then he dropped his mouth to hers and pulled her into the deepest and most sensual kiss she had ever experienced. Their was no mistaking his intentions as he plundered her mouth, his hands spreading wide on her lower back and holding her impossibly tightly.

Eventually she broke away, breathless. "I just, um… just need a minute."

He nodded and slowly released her. Donna scurried off to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, breathing rapidly. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, all ample curves and heaving bosom, she allowed herself a chagrinned smile. This night was a dream come true.

She dropped her head back against the door and sent Jack a silent thank you. Then she squeezed her eyes shut tight as another bolt of anxiety shot through her. Was this really finally going to happen? What if she made a total mess of things?

She peeked up at the window, hidden behind heavy drapes. He had told her over and over again how much it had meant to him that she had gone through every Gallifreyan ritual with him, never faltering, met every custom, no matter how strange or nerve-wracking, she hadn't yet screwed anything up.

If she made a run for it now his memory of everything so far would be perfect.

He was still standing where she had left him, staring into the fire, his shirt and jacket now discarded on a chair in the corner. He looked up and met her eyes with a gentle, encouraging smile as she came toward him, stopping on the edge of the rug.

He stepped closer and seemingly unable to help himself, his hands moved to her hips, then his fingers worked under the shift to the tops of her stockings, tracing around the inch or two of exposed flesh between the garter belt and the end of the long corset.

His eyes watched her closely and she smiled more tentatively now, loving the tenderness of his touch, but still feeling unaccountably embarrassed. Physical intimacy was still so new between them.

Then his hands moved higher, smoothing a path over the curves of her hips and up her sides, drawing her closer little by little. His fingers skirted around her ribs, his thumbs just barely touching the undersides of her breasts through her corset, causing her to sigh tremulously before he brought his lips to capture hers.

With proprietary strength he pulled her against him and groaned into her mouth, his reticence temporarily forgotten, and she melted into him, relishing his possessive, almost devouring, embrace. Her body reacted, desire pooling low in her stomach. Relief flooded through her, and she realized how much easier this would be if he would just take over.

His fingers tangled in her ringlets and with whimpers of pleasure she allowed him to drop her head back, his kisses raining down on her exposed throat. Her breath hitched as his lips moved lower and he stopped just shy of kissing the swell of her bosom, although she could see the great effort it took for him to hold himself back.

His hand moved to support the back of her head as his other arm swept under her knees and before she knew what he was doing she found herself in his arms. And while it was easier to surrender to his lead, Donna felt the butterflies start up in her stomach again.

She stiffened as they approached the huge and somewhat imposing bed. Its towering four posts and heavy curtains had looked so gorgeous in the brochure, and she did love it, but right now it just felt too enclosing and grand.

He paused, his eyes never leaving hers, and whispered her name in a question.

_Not the bed_ she meant to say, but instead her lips parted soundlessly and she just looked up at him.

Very gently he laid her down on the bedspread and when she sat up immediately he moved back a little, watching her carefully. She swallowed and stood up, her groom making no move to stop her.

"Would it be okay if we, um…" she took his hand and pulled him back toward the fireplace, sinking her toes into the thick fur on the enormous white rug laid out in front of it. He came to stand in front of her, looking a little relieved, the firelight sparking in his eyes.

He reached out and cupped her face, the pad of his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

"Are you scared?" he whispered.

She turned from his hand to the fire for a moment, pressing her lips together against the words that wanted to tumble from her mouth. _Yes. No. Not of you, I want this, I don't know._ She couldn't form anything more coherent so it seemed wiser not to say anything at all, and just let this night unfold, this final act of his marriage ceremony. She was his, and she trusted him.

"Donna?" His hand moved to her other cheek this time, turning her face to his.

"Whatever happens, you are going to be okay. I will take care of you, I will keep you safe."

She felt a tremor run through her at the sincerity evident in his voice as he regarded her, his soothing touch on her face, the depth of love in his eyes.

"I trust you," she finally managed.

He held her eyes a moment more and then dropped his hands lower. Questing fingertips ran along the edge of her bodice at the sides, dipping underneath very slightly, tickling her a little as he cinched the material. Suddenly the top layer came away in his hands and the shimmery shift floated to the floor.

THE REST OF THIS STORY IS TOO ADULT FOR

IF YOU ARE OVER 18 YOU CAN FIND THE REST AT LIVEJOURNAL UNDER THE USERNAME SYKIRA

(AND IF NEED BE, UNDER THE TAG "MASTERLIST") I WILL POST THE DIRECT LINK BELOW BUT MAY CHEW IT UP!

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